


this is where i keep you in my mind (i need you to be free)

by iliveinfantasies



Series: Hicsqueak Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Gen, Hicsqueak, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 11:05:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iliveinfantasies/pseuds/iliveinfantasies
Summary: This was written from a Tumblr prompt:"Things you said that I wasn't meant to hear."





	this is where i keep you in my mind (i need you to be free)

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be part of a collection of works written from Tumblr prompts. All of these will be Hicsqueak. There will be another series of works for Avalance.
> 
> Happy reading! Hope you enjoy the ficlets!

The nights grew quiet for Hecate, after the ice hit. 

It was as though something had frozen inside her, and just wouldn’t thaw; as though some quintessential part of her was there, still, encased in ice, caught in a place that even her magic couldn’t quite reach. 

Sometimes, Hecate spoke to the space around her, on these quiet nights. As if the thoughts that had hit her mind in the moments before freezing were the only ones she could think, anymore; as though Pippa’s face, Pippa’s voice, were the only things she would be able to see, until she spoke them aloud.

“I love you,” she’d whisper into the darkness, testing the words tentatively in her throat, wrapping her lips around them carefully, as though they might break; as though someone might hear.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” she’d murmur to the stars, digging her nails into the flesh of her thighs, crescent-shaped scars already littering her skin, soft pink smiles flooding the space behind her eyes.

When Pippa had heard the news the day after it happened, heard the news of the ice that had enveloped their castle, their  _ magic _ , the living, breathing pieces of themselves, she had appeared, promptly in the middle of Hecate’s quarters that night, swaying on her feet and much, much too hot in her skin. 

It had been late, very late, and Hecate had been standing in front of the fire, tying up the laces on her outer robe, when Pippa had popped into existence in the middle of her floor. 

Hecate had frowned, eyes widening, a sick sort of panic flooding her bones. Once she’d realized it was Pippa, the panic had slid into relief, then confusion, but she didn’t have time to think about it much when she got a closer look at the pallid tone of Pippa’s skin.  _ She transferred here,  _ Hecate realized, and the panic seeped back in as Hecate realized the full implication of what that meant. She dropped her laces, frowning deeply, and strode swiftly over to Pippa’s swaying form, steadying her.

_ “Pippa,” _ she hissed, disapproval painting her tone. “What on  _ earth  _ were you think--”

But she hadn’t actually gotten to finish her thought before Pippa was throwing throwing her arms around Hecate’s shoulders, falling into her, burying her face into Hecate’s neck. Hecate had gone stock still, and stiff, inhaling sharply in small, quiet bursts, hoping that Pippa couldn’t feel the pounding of her heart in her veins.

“You’re okay,” Pippa mumbled into Hecate’s robe, her shoulders shaking, just slightly. “You’re okay.”

And Hecate, for reasons entirely unrelated to the ice whatsoever, was anything  _ but  _ okay.

Later, when Hecate finally got the chance to chastise Pippa for transferring such a far distance, Pippa had just shaken her head defiantly, arms still wrapped around Hecate’s neck, and murmured, once more, into the fabric surrounding her shoulders.

“You’d have done the same thing,” She’d said simply, the words falling like icicles onto Hecate’s cheeks, catching in the crooks of her skin and sitting there to burn. 

Hecate found herself replaying that moment often, long after Pippa had left--the concern in Pippa’s face, her voice; the way Pippa’s arms felt, warm and fleeting, wrapped around her icy form

_ Like a friend, might, _ she’d tell herself, chastising herself for letting her mind slip into anything more than that.  _ Like old friends who reconnected after a long hiatus.  _ A hiatus that she, herself, had created. A hiatus that had been necessary, after thinking too many thoughts much like the ones she was thinking now. 

So she took the bright gleam of Pippa’s brown eyes, the soft feeling of Pippa’s skin against her own, and shoved them down, down, into her chest, until they, too were encased in ice. 

And every morning she awoke, once again, with those same, traitor thoughts bubbling to the surface, clawing their way into the space beneath her skin; and in the evening, she’d whisper to the wind, the sky, the stars, breathing in the ice of the air like glass into her bones.

Hecate hated herself for needing it, needing  _ this, _ needing to give in to the silly childhood whims that had slipped straight back to the surface once she and Pippa had reconnected at the Spelling Bee. That could never be, that she could never give into, lest she truly lose Pippa for good, this time. 

But that didn’t stop her from answering mirror calls every Sunday evening, slipping into regular chess sessions every Thursday night.

It was on the evening of a particularly difficult day--one where Bea and Clarice and Sybil Hallow had managed to brew a potion so potent that it had turned each of their classmates into rabbits-- that Hecate found herself standing at the edge of her windowsill, once again, blowing out long, shuddering  breaths into the night.

She had already laced up her robe, already unplaited her hair--pulled it out of its carefully curated bun, falling to the wind, long locks whipping wildly around her face.

It came to her as it always did--the ice flooding her chest, her lungs, the cold forming crystals on the surface of her magic, spreading sluggishly throughout her veins; soft lips, a bright, tinkling smile, the smell of primrose and honeysuckle, thick and intoxicating. The vision was always there, and so obviously, unequivocally  _ Pippa _ ; the last thing she’d seen, and smelled, and felt, and thought before she froze. And she hated thinking about what that meant.

She shut her eyes against the wind, letting her magic spread out in wisps, spreading, looping, swirling, 

“I love you,” she whispered into the sky, like a prayer, and she loathed the release it always gave her to finally,  _ finally,  _ say it out loud.

Had Hecate been less absorbed, less caught up in the night, the frost, her magic spinning circles in the air, she’d have heard the quiet knocks, the small  _ click,  _ the small, soft noises of feet shuffling on carpet.

But she wasn’t, and she hadn’t, and it wasn’t until a sort, murmured “What?” issued from behind her that she drew back into herself, stomach lurching, horribly, lungs collapsing in her chest.

She spun around, knowing what a fright she must have looked--a frantic, wild thing, hair spiraling unruly curls around her cheeks, eyes wide and wanting.

Pippa stood there, hand still clutched around her broomstick, knuckles white. Her face was unreadable, but she was watching Hecate carefully, almost cautiously, as though afraid Hecate might bolt at any second.

Hecate felt a bit like she might. 

Her other hand held a briefcase, and Hecate realized with a jolt of recognition that it was Pippa’s chess set, complete with the game that they were still in the middle of playing from last week.

_ Of course. It was Thursday. How could she have forgotten? Of all the daft, stupid-- _

“Hecate,” Pippa breathed, and there was something faint and aching there. Pippa took a step closer, and Hecate inhaled, sharply, pressing herself more firmly into the stone behind her, rough edges digging lightly into her back. Pippa stopped moving. 

“What…” Pippa began, and stopped. Cleared her throat, and stood a bit straighter. “What did you say?”

Hecate pressed herself upright to match Pippa’s stance, heart still thumping wildly in her chest, and did her best to school her face into its usual stoic expression.

“It was nothing of consequence,” she said, wincing a little at the cracking of her cadence, the breathiness there.

Pippa’s eyebrows furrowed, almost imperceptibly, and Hecate could see the stubborn resolve settling in.

“It was, though, Hecate, wasn’t it?”

It wasn’t really a question, and it felt a bit too raw, a bit too real, despite the softness overlaying Pippa’s words.

“I. I don’t know. What you mean,” Hecate pressed out, haltingly, the ice crawling its way up her throat. Pippa took another step forward, placing the suitcase gently on the ground.

“I think you do, Hecate.”

Hecate looked away, at the ground, at her feet, anywhere but Pippa.

And then Pippa was there, honeysuckle overtaking the space around them, gentle fingers slipping under Hecate’s chin and lifting it up, gently, to meet Pippa’s wide, glittering eyes.

“It’s okay, Hiccup,” she murmured, voice soft and subtle and full of flowers.

It was the nickname that did it.

Hecate’s breath caught in her throat as the frost thawed, her lips working around the words she couldn’t quite say, now that she was faced with it right in front of her.

Pippa cupped a hand around Hecate’s cheek, and pulled her in gently, gently, to rest her forehead against Hecate’s own.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
